Born To Die
by Ankhasia Riddle
Summary: "We were Born to Die..." Russia reverts to his USSR self when he finds that the Baltics have abandoned him. The big fat finale to 'Music Heals', and also the reason I wrote the others. I might want to warn you that literally everyone dies in this.
1. Gone

**Well, you know, this one was quite fun to write.**

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"Toris? Eduard?"

Russia walked through the house, no reply to him was heard.

"Raivis?"

Nothing.

"Toris? Eduard? Raivis!" Ivan's voice trembled as the last few seconds of realisation set in.

"No…" He whispered, hot, salty tears trickling slowly down his face. Walking slowly back into the sitting room, he noticed a piece of paper sitting on the table. Picking it up, he saw it was a letter, and began to read.

_Ivan,_

_You could think they're missing. Perhaps you've come to the conclusion that they've been kidnapped. Or maybe you think that they're just out, and forgot to leave a note, but that would be foolish, and above all other things you are not a fool._

_Truth is Ivan, they're with me now. They took the chance while you were out to call me and I did what a good hero does and rescued the victims from the bad guy. So don't come looking for them, whatever you do. Your precious little Baltics are safe with me, don't worry._

_Your old buddy,_

_Alfred._

Stumbling, Ivan put the letter on the table, and closed his eyes, sadness filling him up.

_I'm all alone…_

Then, carefully, he walked over to the couch, and drank himself to sleep.

His dreams were fragmented, distorted, he could not make anything out, until it shifted, and he saw a woman.

She had pale blue eyes, and light, ash brown hair that cascaded in waves around her shoulders. She was sitting on a throne, and singing with a voice that enchanted Russia, and when she sang, he saw that tears flowed unstoppable down her pale cheeks, and he had never seen such sadness.

Only felt it.

When he woke, Russia had a headache so intense that he thought for a second he had been shot. Feeling his head, eyes shut to the blinding morning light, he realised, with irony, that it was the worst hangover he had ever had.

Then, eyes adjusting to a room littered with empty bottles, Ivan devastatingly remembered why he had decided to blow the competition out of the Drink-to-Death contest. He sat for a while, nothing else to do, no-one to breathe for, and let a stream of tears fall from his chin and accumulate in a small puddle around his feet.

Slowly, fragments of his dream came back to him, the curious woman on a throne sticking in his mind. Ivan tried to remember the song she had sung.

_Ch-Choose…something about a choice…_

He found the more he grasped at the memory, the more it slipped away, and soon he had completely lost all sense of it.

Over the next few weeks he stayed in his house.

Calls were made frequently to his phone, but he would numbly look at the ringing object, close his eyes, and slowly turn away, pushing all thoughts of being cared for to the dark depths of his mind, where memories of his broken childhood would occasionally crawl out, and Ivan, traumatised, would stare until there was one flash of reality, he would grip hold, and, like a drowned man, resurface.

Alone, Ivan used time only to drink away his fading sanity, until the only thing he could fix on was the woman who would haunt his dreams.

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**I didn't think I would end this chapter here, but hey, I didn't anticipate the ending of the Woman in Black to be quite as scary as everyone said. XD**

**Review?**

**...and flames will be used to stoke your funeral pyre.**


	2. Birth of Revenge

**Short chap here! Others will be longer onwards.**

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About two months after being selfishly abandoned by his only friends, Ivan stood up, swaying slightly, and walked out of his house.

Arriving at his work, people around him gasped in horror at his bloodshot eyes, his greasy hair matted and messy, and mostly at the familiar insanity that had been thought to have long since faded.

Only one man saw it, and smiled at it. One man who knew exactly how to use it.

"Ivan," said the man, "I have a solution that I am sure you will find satisfactory. You will, of course, recognise it, and I have made my own improvements and adjustments, but all in all, I think it is perfect for your situation."

He had dark brown hair, this man, and eyes to match with an emotionless stare and a posture that spoke of efficiency. As Ivan considered him he noticed the office was as empty as its owner. There was only a simple desk, and a few filing cabinets behind him. A large file sat in the middle of the desk.

The man handed the weighty file toward Russia, and Russia, flicking through it, smiled wider than the man.

"This _is_ perfect." He said. "I will have to take it back with me to study further. That will be all for now."

Without further ado, Ivan marched out of the office and the man smiled again, a flicker of the same insanity sparking in his eyes.

Arriving home, Ivan dumped the file on his sofa, and went straight to the cupboards for vodka. Having obtained some, he sat down, and read the title, chuckling.

_USSR: IMPROVED_

_By Pavel Ilaynov_

_Approved by Pavel Ilyanov, President of the Russian Federation._

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**Review?**

**...flames will be used to stoke your funeral pyre.**


	3. Served Ice Cold

**Oh I did like this...it's been a while since I've looked at it, and typing this up was enjoyable...XD**

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"Ivan? Braginski! Are you listening?"

Ivan blinked a couple of times, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and focused on what his boss had been saying.

"Yes," he said, nodding. "In all accounts however, I don't think that once one nation is down, the others are unlikely to find a way to stop themselves being affected."

Pavel turned the page in the file. "Which is where the second part comes in. I have managed to devise a way to ensure that every one of them will be eliminated by the end of it. However, you cannot expect that they will not retaliate, and attack in return."

Ivan leaned forward and looked deep into eyes that reflected an emotionless pit of his own.

"Sacrifices," he said, "have to be made."

…

They were walking fast along a road, Pavel was talking even faster.

"Now there will only be a window of time here, from the moment he looks up to the moment he recognises you, which is only a couple of seconds. Once he is hit, the poison will act fast, so it is best to get out as quick as you can before you are caught, but if you are, you have the smoke grenade. However it is messy, and unnecessary and therefore it is easier if you do not get caught."

They stop by a car, and Ivan gets out some inconspicuous looking keys, and opens it. Just before he gets in Pavel rests his hand on Ivan's shoulder.

"Oh and Ivan?" he says. "Good luck."

Ivan gets in the car, admiring the inside, dark as the night-like exterior of the vehicle.

"Do not worry," Ivan replies, "I will not fail."

Dust rose around Pavel as Russia sped off.

…

Arriving at his destination, Ivan got out of the car, shut the door and pulled his coat up around his neck.

Once he had entered the tall building before him, he only had a few minutes to enter the office before he was recognised and security was alerted.

Walking inside he approached the receptionist, a shy looking blonde with kind blue eyes. She smiled and asked his name.

"Ivan," he said. No point in disguising who this was from. "I have a delivery for…"

He looked down at the package and read the name.

"Matthew Williams."

The receptionist, Tracy by her nametag, pointed over to a short man with spiky brown hair.

"That's Dave, he will deal with any deliveries you have."

Ivan lowered his voice.

"I was told to deliver it myself."

Her blue eyes narrowed, but she gave him the floor and office.

"Right ate the top, come out of the lift and walk straight ahead." She said.

Walking over to the life, he was taken to the top floor, and following the receptionist's instructions, he came to a large, plain white door.

Knocking, a small voice told him to enter.

Slowly, Ivan entered the room, and saw Matvey.

He was concentrating writing on some insignificant paper.

"Delivery." Said Ivan.

The man motioned for him to put it on the desk, and when Ivan did so, that was it.

Matthew glanced up at Ivan, double-taking, and stared, disbelieving.

Ivan watching as Canada took in his filthy mated hair, his terribly bloodshot eyes, a fury that was inhuman in the Russian's eyes.

"What happened-"

Matthew was cut off as Ivan, in one slick movement, took out a long black gun from the package, and shot him in the neck.

Ivan watched as he felt the dart, tried to talk.

"W-Why…" Matthew gasped, and collapsed on the desk.

Calmly, Ivan put the gun in his coat, and walked out of the office. He was still calm when he walked out of the doors that lead to the street, hearing people behind him start to raise their voices.

It was only when he had sped off in his car and was safely on the boat back to Siberia did he allow his right hand to tremble.

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**Flames...will stoke your funeral pyre.**

**Reviews...XD**


	4. Continuity

**Wow...that was a quick update. I was so bored in study time...so i hijacked a computer XD**

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When Ivan arrived home that day, he did not hesitate to turn on the television, and what he saw was the cause of him doubling up, spluttering with laughter.

It wasn't the fact that the news reporter had stumbled on his words, or that the picture of Matt was of him with his glasses askew, but the irony of the picture of Ivan's own face.

Russia had thrown his head back laughing in the photo, and the person who had taken it, was of course, Canada.

"_Armed and dangerous, we would advise anyone who happens to see this man not to approach him at any cost, but to alert securities immediately."_

"Idiots," Ivan chuckled, "You'll never find me."

Taking a large swig of vodka, he let his head roll back, and fell asleep.

In his dreams he was once again visited by the lady who sung, and this time he caught a glimpse of where she was. She sat in an enormous and elaborately decorated room. He recognised it from somewhere, and then he was awake.

He sat up, sweating, desperately trying to retrieve the fragments of the song she sung, all the words slipping away into an abyss of forgetting until he was left with little more than he had before.

Hanging his head, he wondered what he had in store today.

Then he remembered who had been next on the list, and shivered at the thought of his old friend.

Ivan shook the thought out of his head. _You don't have friends. Friends are for the weak, and those who can't deal with being solitary._

Determined, he got up and put his coat on, which had now been covered in a thick layer of dirt, turning it from a light shade of beige to a darker, more rancid colour, a filthy brown.

As he walked out, he wondered if he would even be recognised.

…

"This time," spoke Pavel, slightly out of breath. "You will need to take extra care not to be recognised as it is crucial that only he knows you. Now, it is a fast acting parasitical virus, but here," he said, opening the door to the basement with a card, "we have a simple vaccination, that once you have taken we are all safe."

Pavel finally handed Ivan a small syringe, and Ivan stabbed himself in the arm, emptying the contents into his bloodstream.

Then he was given a heavy metal tube.

"This is the virus," explained Ilyanov, "Just twist the knob here and gas will immediately start to escape. As it spreads fast you won't have to worry about any of security catching you, but before it has acted do not be recognised, except, of course, by him."

Ivan felt the cold metal of the tube, and wondered what the symptoms of the virus were.

_Knowing Ilyanov it will either be incredibly efficient or one hell of a mess._

Smiling in return, Russia walked out of the basement, and climbed the hard concrete stairs to the cold air of outside.

…

After a few hours of endless driving he arrived at his destination, and observed the city.

All of the other nations he had passed through to arrive here had enforced the security by tenfold, but here the inhabitants seemed to think they were safe, or just cared even less that a killer could be after them.

Ignoring the stares of curious onlookers, he walked straight into the building at the heart of the city. Even the people inside seemed relaxed. Silently, he slipped into the lift and went straight to the top floor. Ivan knew that his victim would settle for no less than the best and most sophisticated, no matter what it did to his economy.

Luckily for Ivan the man ahead was alone in his office. Quietly, Ivan walked in.

"Francis." He said. The man before him looked up, and fear flashed in his blue eyes.

"Ivan…_Mon Dieu_ what have you done to yourself…"

Smiling, Ivan did not reply but opened the tube, and placed it, hissing, on the table.

Francis coughed, trying to get up, then all of a sudden a dark spot appeared in the corner of his eye.

It grew, and dripped red down his face, while Francis desperately tried to breathe.

Ivan decided to stay, and sat down, slightly amused. His experience with Canada had been different, the people had only started dropping like flies when he had been dead for a full five minutes, but as the life left France Ivan heard a silence that spread like oil on metal, thick with danger and black as night.

Slowly, Ivan rose and walked back to the lift, the ping as it opened to a room, a city of the dead echoing throughout the entire nation.

He walked on, noticing a couple of children who had been splashing in the water fountain slumped over each other, and some birds that had been in a tree had fallen to the ground.

Ivan heard a whirr beside him, and looked up to find himself staring into the screen of a security camera. He waved, and moved on, got in his car, and drove away.

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**Review?**

**Flames will be used to stoke your funeral pyre.**

**The lady...you will have to wait to find out. But guesses are not discouraged, I would love to hear who you think she is.**


	5. Seed of Regret

**Man I am liking this...XD**

**Thanks to...**

**Startled Boris, HiddenChaser and shadowraven45662 for reviewing this!**

**Rikki Elric, Quiet Harmony-chan, pinkrose1122, MontyBoosh, Lily Lewis, HiddenChaser(again) and 4nim3fr33k for favouriting!**

**Startled Boris, shadowraven45662(again), Rikki Elric(again) and Lilypad the Fourth for alerting!**

* * *

The next day, after a day of another victim, Ivan didn't know it, but murder followed by then destroying all trace of those he used to call his friends was beginning to take its toll.

He had made a sandwich, or tried to, but poured milk on the bread and not noticed until his feet where in a puddle. Cursing loudly, he had attempted to clean up the mess, but an image of the friend he a butchered today had flashed before him, and he kneeled, soaked in milk, staring at memory.

_He walked silently, fitting for the suspicious looks he had been getting. Slipping into a dark alleyway he came across a humble-looking house and went inside. Surprisingly, it was empty, and he went into the basement, to see a dark-haired figure with his back to him._

"_Ivan," spoke the figure. "The others did not believe me when I said you would come for me next. They were adamant you would go for America. Tactically foolish, but I guess they underestimate you."_

_I had paused, listening. He opened his mouth to speak but the figure had turned, sorrow in all his features._

_Ivan smiled and approached, drawing a dagger._

"_I know you too well, my friend" Whispered Yao._

_Brushing away a confusing feeling, Ivan stabbed._

"_You." He spat. "You are not my friend. You let him take them."_

"_Ivan please," chocked the Chinese man, "America only-"_

"_Never say that name." Ivan drew the blade out of the man._

"_Oh wait," he said "You're never going to talk again anyway."_

_Stepping back, laughing, Ivan raised the blade, and slashed it against the man's throat. Without waiting, Ivan walked from the room, and left China._

Ivan found himself wiping curiously salty water from his cheeks.

…

It was a darkly lit room, only a handful of candles to illuminate the many faces around the table.

They were all silent, looking for some sort of recognition from the bowed head at the head of the table.

"It's my fault" spoke the figure.

A small hand gently touched the figure's shoulder.

"No sir," the owner said, reassuringly, "No-one could have foreseen this."

Then the figure shrunk even more.

"I could."

…

A few days after, Ivan was out again. This time many fell before him, some pleading, screaming, offering anything, while others simply dropped to the ground without a word.

Eyes of many colours blended into each other, faces, expressions until Ivan felt he was ending the same life over and over again.

…

The small figure had their back to him, fiddling with some small insignificant contraption. Silently, Ivan approached, drawing his knife.

Then the figure, male, just a boy, turns, and spotting Ivan, freezes.

"You!" he says, pointing accusingly, "I could call them you know!"

"I know full well they're watching." replied Ivan. "Don't play me, _leettle_ Kirkland."

Peter shows no reply to this.

"Doesn't it niggle you, how they know that you are next, but they are not here."

_Faces watch, helpless. Arthur knows if anyone even tries to make a move, Peter will die. He presses the intercom._

Ivan sees the flash of doubt on Peter's face.

"Maybe they are all glad to see you die. Perhaps England got tired of hearing you call him a jerk. Perhaps they all began to dislike your childish arrogance"

Doubts were running wild in Peter's mind. _They wouldn't, I know it, they wouldn't…_

Ivan, relentless, continued. "Maybe now they are glad to see you die. In fact, maybe now they are just _begging_ for me to hurry, to rid the world of the waste that is you."

_They wouldn't, don't listen, they wouldn't…would they?_

A click resounding around the room informed them both that someone had pressed the intercom. Ivan put away his blade.

"I know I am, Peter. I am very glad to see you die." He said.

And then he revealed a gun in his left hand, aimed, and shot the boy in the head.

Shouts of denial, of hate resounded in the room from the intercom.

"Goodbye."

Ivan walked away, then paused.

And looked at the camera in the corner of the room, fury burning an Armageddon in his eyes.

"I hope you feel how I did," he said, shaking with emotion. "I hope you want to tear out your heart, America."

He choked on the last word, and spat on the ground.

The sound of a helicopter had filled the surrounding area. Ivan saw the familiar face of Pavel Ilyanov, and jumped on.

In the distance, Russia saw two jets streaming towards them, but they were too late.

He was gone.

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**Haha...I'm so evil. The other nations are droppping like flies aren't they?**

**Flames WILL be used to stoke your funeral pyre.**

**Review?**


	6. Curtain Call

**Man this gets more and more depressing...WARNING: Implied Rape.**

**Many thanks to...**

**Startled Boris, HiddenChaser and shadowraven45662 for reviewing this!**

**Rikki Elric, Quiet Harmony-chan, pinkrose1122, MontyBoosh, Lily Lewis, HiddenChaser(again) and 4nim3fr33k for favouriting!**

**Startled Boris, shadowraven45662(again), Rikki Elric(again) and Lilypad the Fourth for alerting!**

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After two weeks, Ivan honestly thought he could take no more. The endless bloodshed drew up memories long forgotten, and he would shiver on the floor, curled up, longing for his sisters' comforting touch, wishing everything was normal but then he would recall why he started this and hard flint would return to his eyes.

_Soon_ he thought. _Soon now._

…

They were gathered around the table again, many faces absent, their number severely depleted.

"We have no other choice." Sighed the figure at the head of the table.

The others nodded, and one leant forward. "If you had have done this earlier it could of been a lot easier."

Another figure turned to them. "No-one is to blame here."

The man at the head of the table looked up.

"I don't want to. But enough is enough."

There was a pause, a silence of anticipation.

"Tell the General to fire at will."

Instantly one figure rose and ran from the room. Another, female, hissed. "If you just let me talk to him-"

"You would join the others. You know that, Nat. Don't fool yourself."

…

Russia stood in his house, holding a half empty vodka bottle.

As he surveyed what was once a great house, pain erupted in his chest. Falling to his knees he scrambled for his phone, dialling desperately.

For a few agonising seconds the phone was heard to ring, but then it was picked up, and a sharp voice answered.

"Ivan?"

"Re-Retaliate…"

"Retaliate from what?"

"They…they are bombing" Ivan managed to choke out. "You know what to do…obliterate them all…but him…"

"Gladly." Was the reply. The other person hung up.

Ivan dropped the phone as another wave of bombs hit, and he curled up.

Then, when the next came, he allowed himself to collapse, unconscious.

…

America sat, head in hands, guilt filling him to an unbearable level.

_My fault…I should have guessed._

He saw all their faces, how they had all been so filled with hope.

Resolve filled him.

_Well at least I can end this._

Alfred knew exactly where Ivan would be.

He got up, and drove to the airport.

…

Ivan could sense him. He knew he was near.

Tightening his grip on his pipe, he walked forward on land that was once his.

Then he was there, standing.

They face each other; one filled with rage, the other only a quiet pity.

Alfred sighed.

"Why did you never use your pipe with the others? It is your proclaimed favourite weapon after all." He asked.

Snarling, Ivan spat at him. "I saved it for you."

Ivan could wait no longer. This man before him filled him with fury, and no more would he, could he contain it.

He charged at America, who raised a gun and shot Ivan in the stomach. Pain flared in his abdomen, but Ivan pushed it aside, and swept his faucet in the direction of Alfred's neck, who dodged easily and caught Ivan's arm in an iron-tight grip.

"Stop. For all our sakes, stop." He said.

"Never." Growled Ivan, and he wrenched his arm down, sending America sprawling on the ground, and the gun fell far from either's reach. Russia pressed a boot on his chest.

"Now," he spat, "Now I have my revenge."

Ivan leaned forward and quick as a flash brandished a syringe and stuck it deep into America's neck.

America fought, pushing against Ivan's arm but the Russian had all his weight on his side, so Alfred's efforts were useless.

Alfred the suddenly relaxed, as the drug took hold, giving him no movement, but feeling remained as ever. He felt the snow beneath him start to melt into his back.

Russia tore at Alfred's clothes, and realisation filled America. _Not this…Please…I thought you were better than that…Oh God I'd rather die…_

Straining all his muscles, America tried to speak, but nothing would obey him, not even his eyelids would blink, so he was left, staring, as his eyes began to burn with the urge to close.

After Ivan was done, America lay helpless on the ground.

"Now," he said. "Shall we make this quick? I think so."

Ivan raised his pipe, and brought the metal crushing down on the American's head with what would have been a sickening crunch, if it had fell on humane ears. Instead all Ivan heard was redemption.

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**So...last chapter next. Wow, this is actually my second fic that I've finished that has more than one chapter.**

**Reviews?**

**...Flames will be used to stoke your funeral pyre.**


	7. Born to Die

**Ok...oh my days I this is the end! I feel kinda wierd...I don't want it go. Although this is my most depressing one. XD**

**Many thanks to...**

**Startled Boris, HiddenChaser and shadowraven45662 for reviewing this!**

**Rikki Elric, Quiet Harmony-chan, pinkrose1122, MontyBoosh, Lily Lewis, HiddenChaser(again) and 4nim3fr33k for favouriting!**

**Startled Boris, shadowraven45662(again), Rikki Elric(again) and Lilypad the Fourth for alerting!**

**If you thought this was an update, I'm sorry. I've been warned that unfortunatley, song lyrics are not allowed if Fics! Ah well...you will just have to 'keep the song in mind', as the 'warner', so to speak, said.**

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It should have felt glorious.

It should have filled him with triumph, joy, completion.

He felt none of that.

All he felt was empty, and a little bit sick.

How could he enjoy the world he had to himself when he could no longer feel?

Ivan picked his phone up, considering, and decided against it. Instead, he had a better plan.

…

He walked into the office, Ilyanov opposite.

"Well?" said the man. "Do you require anything? We can get you everything."

"Just one thing." Said Ivan.

Without hesitating, with all the people he killed in his mind, Russia raised the gun he had hidden in his coat and shot the president twice in the head.

Next, Ivan walked into the office to his right, picked up the nearest phone and started dialling.

"Code 66. Get it done."

Not waiting for a reply he put the phone down.

Ivan walked among his people.

He felt…strange. A hard-to-describe feeling.

Partially complete.

Happily dejected.

In his lonely company, but not quite alone.

Relieved, and anticipating.

Out in the streets he looked up at the sky.

Then, as fire started to fall from the heavens, he noticed.

He heard it. The song.

His song.

_Her_ song.

Their song.

It was her. The woman who haunted him with dreams.

Franticly, he found himself looking around, wind in his hair.

Nothing. Just people, so many of his people, slowly becoming hysterical.

He desperately ran, following where he heard it.

The chaos was increasing, hysteria spreading like wildfire in the city.

He felt within himself, and knew.

He knew, he was dying.

Ivan ran on, determined.

A crash erupted behind him as a building collapsed, and he gasped as more of his people died.

The music, like everything else, was dredging up more memories he did not want.

He stumbled, and reached the square.

There.

He saw her.

She walked, unnoticed by everyone else but him, her hair flowing in the wind.

The white dress, untainted, almost ethereal in a city so dirty now.

With pride, and ghost-like, she walked among his people.

Across the bridge, she caught his eye.

He felt, suddenly, there was no reason to hurry.

Slowly, then, they approached each other.

For a second he thought she had gone, in all the madness around them, but there she was.

Her voice.

That _voice._

Dripping,

_Saturated_ in sorrow.

The bridge slowly began to clear.

People just…disappearing.

Until all that was left between them was distance.

On she sang.

On they walked.

They were almost there.

As they drew closer together, Ivan saw her face was glittering with tears.

And they were face to face.

Seconds passed.

They observed each other.

She raised her hand.

An offering.

He took it, noticing the chaos had stopped.

Light burst out of nowhere.

Then he was in a field, facing them, and the song went on.

All the nations.

He was, they all were, willing to forgive. Latvia offered his hand,

To the light. Ivan refused to believe he deserved that.

He turned, and welcomed the eternal flames.

As he fell, he heard it.

The song had ended.

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**Well...what can I say? My imagination ran away with me on that one XD**

**Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, favourited and alerted this. I did enjoy it. And I might say, it was partially inspired by the INCREDIBLE A Crack in the Looking Glass and In the Shadow of Wonderland by Drovenich**

**So...review?**

**And as for flames...you know exactly where they go...**


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